In late 2001, I visited several comic book stores in the Melbourne area for research purposes, and was hugely disappointed by the service offered in the majority of stores I called upon. That led me to pen an essay for Ninth Art entitled Unwanted Conversations. A year and a half later, I decided to see if there had been any improvements in this regard, and write a follow up.

Now, I really should have written this essay a couple of months ago. See, the idea was, I'd move back to the city, as I needed a change of scene; plus, being able to frequent comic book stores on a regular basis once again appealed to me. This was despite my distaste for the collector culture they encourage, but that said, I did feel a need to be part of the active comics readership once again.

Suffice to say, the move didn't work out. However, I have been back to those same stores, and between penning Unwanted Conversations and this essay, I've found that the service at those stores had much improved...for the most part.

'The counter monkey proclaimed he was lord and master of all he surveyed.' For the most part, the improvements can be attributed to one simple factor: greater politeness, on both sides of the counter. The staff at one particular store fielded customer questions with consummate knowledge and ease. For example: one man asked about the Jim Lee/Jeph Loeb BATMAN. The sales assistant directed him to where the issues were kept, as well as details about how said creators came to work on the title, and how long for. The customer was duly impressed, and took his purchases to the counter gladly. By answering the man's questions to the best of their ability, the staff secured a sale and, perhaps, a returning customer.

However, compare this to what I saw in another store, and you can see that the change in attitude hasn't happened across the board. At this second store, the counter monkey proclaimed - to anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in earshot - that he was lord and master of all he surveyed. And proceeded to behave in a manner that suggested he believed it. He was rude to his customers, answered questions in a snide manner - especially those asked by kids new to comics - and generally acted in an arrogant fashion.

So what do you do in a situation like that? It might be worth taking the guy to task for his behaviour, if you think he's going to listen, but you'll send a much clearer message if you just take your business elsewhere.

I ended up revisiting a store I used to frequent, though it had since moved. On this particular day, it was the height of the Australian summer, and as such, was stiflingly hot. Thankfully, the store was equipped with an air conditioner, which made for comfortable browsing. (You'd be surprised how many stores fail to take into account customer comfort - and by this, I don't just mean comic book shops. But I digress...)

Being the end of the week, the new week's comics were due in, but had been held up by a problem at the airport, and would be delayed a day. When the regular customers came in, the gentlemen behind the counter would make a point of telling them such, just as a courtesy. (There's that word again.)

One customer came in with his girlfriend, and when she remarked that the heat had left her feeling tired, she was quickly offered a chair to rest in while her boyfriend browsed and picked up his purchases. It was such a simple, even obvious thing to do, but so unusual to see that kind of consideration in a comic shop.

'You'd be surprised how many stores fail to take into account customer comfort.' Plenty of mileage has been made from the popular stereotypes of comic book readers, the most famous being the Comic Book Guy in THE SIMPSONS. The customers who frequent comic stores are perceived in the public eye as gormless individuals lacking in basic social skills.

And to be fair, I've seen several of the fabled 'Cat Piss Men' haunting the stores I've visited. But if a better level of service and a greater degree of consideration for customers were to be the rule rather than the exception, I suspect that the uninformed would be less likely to throw slings and arrows at fandom's general direction.

Unfortunately, I'm once again relegated to being an infrequent visitor to any sort of comic book store. Thankfully, though, I have the Internet to rely on to supply my sequential art fix, however irregular.

There's eBay, for starters - I've been using that for nearly two and a half years now, and despite the occasional transaction that doesn't work as well as you hoped, it's been a great way to get a hold of new material.

Also, there's Amazon - I use a local Australian online bookstore that orders books through Amazon on the customer's behalf. It works well, and if there are any problems, I only need pick up the phone. The only thing is, due to the exchange rate and additional costs (freight, postage and handling), purchases tend to be expensive, so I use it sparingly.

Thanks to the internet, there's no longer any need to rely on comic stores that offer substandard service. Ordering online is a heck of a lot easier then rifling though back-issue bins and having to deal with snotty sales assistants.

Sometimes, you just want a little less conversation, and a little more action.

Brent Keane is a regular contributor to Ninth Art and PopImage and has also written for Opi8, Sequential Tart and Nerdbait.

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